Mass Effect: Crime Boss AU
by corsairr
Summary: In this crime boss AU, Shepard is the notorious leader of a band of thugs and freelancers. Her right-hand man happens to be Jacob Taylor, and things hit the fan when he fails a mission.


Jacob felt a bead of sweat roll down his forehead as he walked down the chasm leading to the boss's quarters. For several weeks he'd been out trying to wriggle his way into a rival gang in order to destroy them from the inside out. That would explain his black eye and the blood coating his bruised armor.

But it didn't explain why he failed the mission. His orders were to take them out using manipulation, not guns, but what else was he supposed to do when they figured him out and started interrogating him? If he gave them the information they wanted, he would have been killed by his boss. If he didn't, he would have been killed by the gang.

So he took the reckless road and fought his way out of there. He'd used a dagger hidden in his boot to rig the alarms, then once they went off and the entire headquarters was in an uproar, he got out of there. The gorey details were meaningless, his results were not. And Shepard would not be happy with his results.

He scratched the back of his neck as he stood outside her door, debating whether or not he should heat her up before she got her coffee in. He told himself to stop being a wimp, then straightened up and knocked on the door firmly before he could change his mind. He didn't let himself think about it in the short amount of time it took for Shepard to open the door.

There she was, wearing nothing but gym shorts and a training bra, giving full view to her countless amount of elaborate tattoos. Most were gang signs, and Jacob knew this only because he was the one who tattooed them onto her. He knew what he was doing with an ink gun and she trusted him, so that was enough.

He could tell she'd just dragged herself out of bed, given that her thick curly hair was sticking up in various directions and her make-up was smeared. He nodded curtly at her as she stepped aside to let him in.

"You look like shit," she said bluntly, rubbing her eye.

Jacob chuckled. "So do you."

"Good to have you back, Jacob." She walked over to her desk and sat down on it, her shoulders slouched. She fixed him with an expectant look.

And that's when his nerves starting acting up again. Even with bedhead, untidy make-up, and no armor, this woman still intimidated the hell out of him. Jacob wasn't intimidated easily, but he was staring at a woman who single-handedly destroyed three of Omega's most notorious mercenary groups, then managed to remain on Aria T'Loak's good side.

"Well?" she urged.

He wouldn't clock out now. He maintained eye contact and accepted his faults with the same easy pride he always had. "No good, boss. They figured me out and had me at gunpoint. It was a narrow escape." He gestured towards his black eye, simultaneously bracing himself for her wrath.

He couldn't even begin to imagine how creative she would get with his punishment. The last guy who failed a mission was taken for a ride in a sky car and dropped at eight-hundred feet. Another had a gun held to his manhood with exactly one bullet in it, with the conditions that if his nuts weren't blown off within the first shot, he'd be let off the hook. And if they were blown off…

Jacob wanted to shiver at the memory. Russian Roulette against his nether regions was not on the agenda today. He'd rather fight his way out, even knowing his chances of getting out were alarmingly slim.

Then Shepard laughed, and Jacob furrowed his brows in confusion. At his expression, her laughter only grew.

He wasn't accepting this as a good sign. Though this wasn't the passive aggressive laugh she used when she was about to gun someone down, it wasn't the one she used when she was having a good time either. "What's my punishment?" he asked impatiently. There was no need to play coy if he was going to get kicked out anyway.

Her laughter subsided into a toothy grin. "Why would I punish you?"

"I failed a mission."

"Yeah, but you're cute."

He arched a brow, his confusion becoming even more severe. He received a lot of mixed signals from Shepard, and it only gave him a headache trying to figure out what she wanted from him, so he avoided the subject. One minute she was telling him he's cute and kissing his cheek, the next she was kicking his ass over touching her shotgun.

And every time he flirted with her back, she got flustered and a fierce blush accented her freckled cheeks. Then she'd punch him. Why she did this, he didn't know.

He giggled nervously, then cleared his throat and turned serious once more. "You're not going to do anything, then? Not even a suspension?"

She shrugged. "Nah. If anyone asks, tell them I kicked your ass and broke your gun."

He watched her for a moment, still not convinced he was completely off the hook. It wasn't unlikely for her to lull him into a false sense of security then break him down, even if she wasn't the cunning type. As far as he knew, she was blunt in her professional endeavors— if you were going to get your ass kicked, you would know, and you would know right then and there.

He nodded stiffly.

"So," she began, hopping off the desk and crossing her arms, "how'd you escape?"

"Rigged the alarm systems and ditched while they were freaking out," he replied with a casual shrug. "Wasn't as heroic as it sounds."

"Cool. Go get yourself cleaned up and meet me in the ring in thirty."

"Wh—"

"That was an order."

He sighed, but did as commanded. He left the room, exhaling a breath he didn't know he was holding once he was over the threshold. After he reached his personal quarters, he jogged to the bathroom and slipped out of his blood-soaked clothes and got into the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, he was standing in front of the mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist and shaving cream on his lower cheeks. As he slid the razor across the shaving cream, he wondered what Shepard had planned. Whenever she said 'the ring', she was usually implying a brawl. Which he would be fine with if he hadn't just failed a vital mission.

His thoughts wandered back to her casual flirting, how easy it was for her to drop not-so-subtle hints that she was into him. When he'd first signed onto her gang, he made sure to make it clear he was professional. When she'd laughed and told him nothing was professional in this line of work, he continued making an effort to not push her boundaries and get personal.

But damn, she knew just how to get to him. He finished shaving, taking extra care to make sure his goatee was at it's finest. He put on grey sweatpants and a tank top, relishing in the feeling of warm clothes that didn't cling to his body with sweat and blood. In fine spirits, he made his way down to the ring.

Shepard was waiting for him, her make-up fixed and her black hair brushed. Her dark eyes met his, and a smirk rose to her full lips. "Let's dance." she said, beckoning him over.

He grinned crookedly and swung himself over the ropes, then put his fists up. No later than that, Shepard's fist crashed into his gut, and he stumbled back more out of shock than pain. Gritting his teeth, he straightened up and used her satisfied smirk to fuel his muscles.

His first punch glanced her temple. The thumping sound of fist plunging into skin was a pleasing one, however soft. Shepard's recovery from the blow was shockingly fast and before he knew it, he was tackled to the ground with her straddling his chest, her knees glued to his forearms to prevent him from moving his arms.

Their brawls never lasted long. Only two to five punches ever got in before one or the other tackled, then it was game over. Jacob laughed as she smirked down at him, her long hair casting a shadow over her face.

"Alright. You got me." admitted Jacob, his head thumping onto the mat.

"No I don't."

He gestured towards her body on top of him as best he could. "All evidence to the contrary."

She sighed and pushed herself off of him, then stood up. "No, I mean I really don't got you. For fuck's sake mate I've been dropping hints since you got on board, what's it gonna take? Am I ugly?"

Jacob wasn't going to do anything while he was still laying on the ground. He got to his feet— stumbled, more like— then regarded her with confusion. "Of course not. You've just been… sending mixed signals. I don't know what you want from me." Though he'd like to believe otherwise, Jacob was generally inexperienced in relationships. Sex, he knew how to do. Relationships, he did not.

She stared at him.

With a sigh, he tried again. "You flirt with me, I get that. Whenever I flirt back, you hit me. I don't get that."

"I'm a fucking baby, alright? I've never had a crush on someone. I don't wanna talk about feelings. You into me or not?"

"I mean…" He shifted uncomfortably. "Alright, here's the thing: I like you, Korey, and I want more with you than what we have. But I wanna do it right; take it slow."

She scowled.

"Those are my terms, Shep. If that's not what you're interested in, maybe I'm not the one for you." He was determined to make his intentions clear before anyone got hurt.

"Fine." She paused, then looked back up at him. "Can I kiss you?"

He wasn't sure what he expected. Out of sheer nervousness, he chuckled. "Erm… I guess so?"

"Okay."

They stared at each other.

"Well?" Jacob pressed.

"What?"

"Aren't you going to kiss me?"

"Huh? No, no, I just needed to know for future reference." With that, she swung herself over the railing and sent him a wink before leaving.


End file.
